Watch the looking Glass
by Titan of Saturn
Summary: The history of Julian Bashir from the AU in Through the Looking Glass. Dark, lots of angst, and mature themes. Discontinued. Sorry to those few who liked this.
1. Dim

Disclaimer: The characters and universe of Star Trek: DS9 do not belong to me. I am using them without the permission of their owner. I am in no way gaining profit by writing this story.

Summery: The life of Julian Bashir from the 'Through the Looking Glass' episode. Rated Mature for violence and sexual content. Scenes not explicit. Some Homosexuality involved.

* * *

When I was born the occasion was not joyous. My addition to the family was not welcome, for it meant only that my parent's had another person to clothe, another split in their rations. I figured that they had tried to terminate the pregnancy, but who were the Klingon's to turn down another slave? My parent's had no other children anyway, so there was no violation of the Terrain Regulation Treaty.

I was a clumsy child, slow to understand and learn. While most children knew how to speak at three, I could barely be understood at four. My parent's hated it, having to spare precious work time to care for a stupid child. They had to feed me, clothe me, teach me, and care for me, and I could not even tend to the household chores that my peers had been doing for a year. They finally gave up trying to teach me themselves, and sacrificed their three room house to hire a qualified tutor. He spent two weeks with me, and then declared that he couldn't help a boy with severe dyslexia. I didn't know what that meant then, but I do now. People with the condition I had used to be sent to Sanctuaries and my Father had taken to calling me 'Dim' from then on.

I grew up in a slave town on a Klingon ruled planet. We were left alone, for the most part, to scrap off the land and await the picking of the next batch of slaves. We were poor, everyone was, and the town manufactured goods to keep from going under. I remember before my mother gave up teaching me, how she'd sit for hours when it was her shift to watch me and try to get me to learn how to sew. I had a good memory, have always had a good memory. It's one of the things I am proud of as _my_ accomplishment. Maybe it was the dyslexia, but memory did not equal understanding when I was young. If it had, I would have been the smartest person in that town. If only, if only…

When I was seven a man came to the door. He was going through town and needed a place to stay. Someone had recommended my family to put him up for a couple of nights. The look on my Father's face when he heard that- we'd put up the occasional traveler when we had still had the three room house, and always for money. Now our house was two roomed, not suitable for guests, and this stranger looked to barely be able to feed himself, let alone pay rent.

Room was quickly made, however, when the man had seen my Father's look, and hastened to sketch a figure for a three night stay including meals. My Mother spent the whole night with a smile on her face. I hadn't seen her smile that much since I learned to say 'Mum' instead of 'Num.' I hadn't noticed then, but looking back through the memories now the stranger had watched me closely those first two days. Saw my parents struggle with care and work; saw how my mother had to chase after me with a needle in her teeth, half patched up pants over her shoulder. And then- finally -on the third day, he said something. It was obviously not what my parent's were expecting.

He said he knew a treatment that could help me; that they wouldn't have to pay anything for it. He warned them that the treatment was experimental and illegal, and that I would never be able to come back here, or they would be arrested. My parent's thought about it for all of ten minutes, and then handed me right over.

That marked one of the biggest changes in my life. The life of Jules Banning.

* * *

Tell me what you think. I have the first tree chapter's written, but I want your opinion. It's strange, I know. Work with me here.

_TS_


	2. Enhanced

Disclaimer: The characters and universe of Star Trek: DS9 do not belong to me. I am using them without the permission of their owner. I am in no way gaining profit by writing this story.

Summery: The life of Julian Bashir from the 'Through the Looking Glass' episode. Rated Mature for violence and sexual content. Scenes not explicit. Some Homosexuality involved.

* * *

Turned out the treatment the man had spoken of was an experiment in genetic enhancements. Most of their other subjects had died, or come out with mental problems so extensive they were useless. I was the first and only test subject to come out perfectly and live. After the surgery, when I was in recovery, I was showered with affection and gifts and given anything I wanted. I was so happy, I was comfortable, in a real bed, people liked me, and I could _think_! It was the most amazing feeling ever, being able to think. It was like waking up from a hazy and confusing dream and seeing everything in terrifying clarity. It didn't last.

As soon as I was up and about the test's started. Teaching me, seeing how fast I could learn a language or how far I could run before I threw up and collapsed. I had a complete strip physical at the end of every week and brainwave scans once a month. When I was eight they wouldn't let me sleep for two and a half weeks, quizzing me every hour to see when my performance started to decrease. When I was almost ten they sent virus after virus at my immune system, to see when it would fail. At ten they read me eight full length novels and wouldn't give me anything to eat until I had copied them all down from memory. Later that year I spent twelve days in the wilderness of a holoprogram with only a knife. The doctors threw everything they could at me, and I survived it all.

I tried to escape when I was thirteen. I was caught by a guard that was on his way back from the bathroom. I would have succeeded if he had been at his post. I got under the Light and six days in solitary for that. I never tried it again. When I was fourteen they brought a prisoner in, a smart man, a serial killer. He was Vulcan, a rouge who'd been exiled. I knew about Vulcans, knew every race, all crammed into my head; strong points, weak points, and how to kill them. Sometimes I wondered if I really was just a science experiment, or if they planned to make me an assassin.

They handed the entire case over to me, told me what they wanted, what resources I had, and the consequence if I failed. After trying to escape the year before they made perfectly clear my stay was not optional, under threat of pain. So I spent three weeks and two days breaking the Vulcan, and break him I did. The scientists approached me afterwards, and informed me I was to receive punishment for taking so long. And that was it, the thing that set me off. I had withstood everything so far, but I would not stand and be punished if I didn't do anything wrong. So as he led me away I swiped a sharp metal instrument and hid it up my sleeve. Once we had started down the hall my two guards could no longer stand on either side, it was only wide enough for two abreast. Then I moved, going for the thought of the one beside me, then the heart of the one in front.

I turned around then, to face the doctor that had tagged along. His expression when I killed him will forever be etched in my memory. I'd have to say that was the happiest moment of my life. I went back to the lab then, and put a leak in the plasma conduit, just the right size to explode in a certain amount of time. Then I ran, and stood outside and watched my prison burn.

I was free from hell, and I was glad to see it go up in flames.

* * *

Okay, so I couldn't wait. I'm home sick from school today and have nothing better to do. It's not like I can get my keyboard sick by coughing on it.

_TS_


End file.
